


Band-Aids

by Narimiri



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: A bit of pairing typical snark, F/M, Fluff, Izaya is a weepy little wuss tbh, Kissing It Better, Minor Injuries, Sickeningly Cute Fluffiness, but he's still a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 02:59:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10935594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narimiri/pseuds/Narimiri
Summary: Izaya really is bad at the simplest things, and when he gets hurt, he needs Namie to kiss it better for him~





	Band-Aids

The first incident is three days after she started working under him. 

 

Namie Yagiri sits on the couch in her employer's lavish apartment, researching something for her boss. Said boss, Izaya Orihara, is sitting at his desk, fidgeting with a knife. 

 

Suddenly, an ear splitting, almost girlish wail rings out through the apartment.

 

"OWWWWWW!!!" Namie looks up to see her boss, clutching his right hand with his left, tears pooling in his eyes. 

 

"What did you do?" She sets her laptop on the coffee table, an annoyed "tch" sound escaping her lips. Izaya looks embarrassed when she asks this, and he averts his gaze.

 

"I... I-I cut my hand.." He says sheepishly, his ears burning pink. He holds up his hand, and Namie sees a cut on the palm. For such a narcissistic bastard, he's so easily embarrassed, Namie thinks, rolling her eyes.

 

"Oh." She sighs, "Do you expect me to bandage you up and kiss it better? I would only do that to Seiji." She folds her arms over her chest. Izaya cringes, the pinkness on his ears spreading to his porcelain pale cheeks. 

 

"I wouldn't mind if you bandaged it for me.. I guess.." Izaya says begrudgingly, the pink of his cheeks deepening to a red, the color of the small amount of blood on his hand.

 

"Fine." Namie scoffs, and exits the room, returning with a first aid kit in hand. She opens it up, setting it on the informant's desk, and takes out a bottle, and a few cotton balls. She dips a cotton ball into the bottle, liberally covering the end in the fluid, labeled as hydrogen peroxide. She grabs the informant by his wrist, dabbing at his wound with the cotton ball.

 

"Ouch!!! N-Namie! I-it stings! Blow o-on it!" The brunet shrieks, his slender hand cringing in Namie's grasp. The secretary shoots him a bitter glare, before blowing softly on the now damp wound, soothing the bubbles appearing in the cut.

 

"Are you five years old?" The woman says scornfully, before picking up a band-aid from the first aid kit, and gently pressing it to the whimpering informant's palm. She closes up the kit, and with a scoff, she says, "Don't play with that knife anymore, okay?"

 

Izaya nods, awkwardly dumbstruck by her momentary caring side. She sits back down, and continues working, as if nothing happened.

 

________

 

The next incident is two weeks later. Namie is working late, gathering information for her employer online. She hears him stand from his desk, and walk into the kitchen of the large apartment. She raises an eyebrow as he leaves, but thinks nothing of it, just resuming her work. Precisely 4 minutes later, an ear splitting shriek meets her ears, and she stands up, briskly walking to the informant's kitchen. 

 

In the kitchen, she sees the "godly" (Yeah right, she thinks) information broker, suckling his index finger like a little child, a weepy, tearful expression on his face. His bottom lip quivers, and tears are falling down his cheeks.

 

"N-Namie..." He sobs, and Namie scoffs, "I cut m-my f-finger open.." A flustered pink spreads across his face, and he stares at his feet.

 

"Sit down at the table." Namie instructs, and a dumbfounded look crosses the informant's face. Part of him adores the motherly affection, and the other is shocked and repulsed by it. He nods, mouth agape, and shuffles to the table, taking a seat. The secretary leaves, returning with a first aid kit yet again. "Show me your hand." She orders.

 

"M-mhm.." The informant obliges, extending his hand. A small chunk of his index finger is cut off.

 

"How did that happen?" An incredulous expression crosses Namie's face as she cleans the wound.

 

"Owie!!!" The informant shrieks, squeezing his eyes shut at the sting of hydrogen peroxide in the wound and jerking his hand away. Namie opens her mouth to judge his reaction, but shuts it again when she sees him ready to cry. "I-I wanted to make stew... A-and I cut my finger c-cutting vegetables.." Izaya whimpers.

 

"Let me do the cooking from now on, okay?" Namie says, wrapping his finger liberally in gauze and medical tape. 

 

"Uh huh..." Izaya nods, the deep pink flush spreading across his face again.

 

______

 

The third incident is merely three days later. 

 

Namie is as always, working on something for her boss. Said boss sits on the couch, playing with a Frankenstein's monster of a board game. Namie tries to block out his maniacal ramblings from her mind. 

 

Suddenly, a great "FWOOOMPH" noise erupts from the game board, and there's a split second, before,

 

"NAMIEEEEEEE!!!!" The informant wails, and the secretary looks up. She sees her employer, sitting on the couch, and frantically flapping his hands. 

 

"What?" She asks him, and he shoves his hand into his mouth, suckling his fingertips. 

 

"Buwned my finga' N-Namie..." He says, voice muffled by his hand.

 

"I'll get the first aid kit." Namie sighs, and leaves the room. She returns, first aid kit and ice pack in hand. She takes Izaya's hand, and gently examines it. Sure enough, it's burned in several little places. She softly presses the ice pack to his hand.

 

"I-it's cold!!" The brunet shrieks, shooting a nasty look at Namie.

 

"It's supposed to be cold, stupid. It's an ice pack." Namie speaks in a cold, quippy tone.

 

"Whatever.." Izaya sniffles, and Namie removes the ice pack. She wraps his burned hand in gauze gently.

 

"Want me to kiss it better?" The woman says sarcastically. To her surprise, Izaya nods, a deep blush spreading across his cheeks. She lifts his hand to her lips, and kisses the top of it.

 

"O-oh.. I-I didn't think you'd..." Izaya stares at his bandaged hand in awe.

 

"Disgusting." Namie says coldly, but Izaya swears he sees a glimpse of warmth in her eyes. 

 

"Mhm." Izaya nods, covering his mouth to keep from laughing.

 

_____

 

The next incident is not as much of an incident. Nonetheless, it happens the next week.

 

"Naaaaamiiiiieeee!" Izaya cries.

 

"Yes?"

 

"Hurts.." When the secretary looks up, she doesn't see any wounds on the information broker. She stands, and goes over to him. All she sees is a little cut on his lip.

 

"Huh?" She raises an eyebrow quizzically. 

 

"Kiss it better~" Izaya teases, pointing at his lips.

 

"No!" Namie instantly declines.

 

"Pwease...?" The informant bats his long lashes, taking on a cutesy, childish tone.

 

"Fine." The woman snaps, and grabs the informant by his collar, yanking him in and attaching her lips to his. When she pulls back, the informant grins, and drawls,

 

"Maybe I'll have to start getting hurt more. Ne, Namie~?"

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this little fluffy thing I wrote in one evening after a long day :)


End file.
